


The Defenestration of Pod

by AceKatz, TamerLorika



Series: Stories on the Quantum Penguin [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Non-Human Genitalia, biological interestingness, seriously why is there no archive warning for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:05:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5751187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceKatz/pseuds/AceKatz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TamerLorika/pseuds/TamerLorika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Trandoshan finds himself questioning the version of the Scorekeeper's mighty religion that he has been taught when faced with the most striking Wookiee captive he has ever seen. </p><p>This is more than an escape. This is a rebellion. </p><p>(It's too bad that Trandoshans and Wookiees are ancestral enemies. Their bodies are made for each other)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Defenestration of Pod

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [First Steps Onward](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5716933) by [AceKatz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceKatz/pseuds/AceKatz), [TamerLorika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TamerLorika/pseuds/TamerLorika). 



> I feel like A03 captures my personal descent into the bowels of hell. Try reading my works in chrono order to see what a life lost looks like. 
> 
> Part of an ongoing series, co-planned and written with user AceKatz and myself.

 “-------!!”

 Nachkt hated that sound.

He didn’t know when he’d started to differentiate Shyriiwook syllables, or to convert them into Dosh. He supposed it came with the occupational territory. Nachkt had been aboard a slaver ship from the time he turned 14 and now, four years later, realized that he had not been unaffected.

Pesst, Nachkt’s watch partner, barely flinched as the ululation went on.

“How do you manage it?” Nachkt hissed, resisting the urge to cover his ears.

“What, the noise?” Pesst scoffed. “Litterling. You may be in the wrong business if you can’t stand screams.”

“No, it’s the _fear_ ,” Nachkt responded, his inner eyelids twitching open and shut. In all his pulls, he’d never heard a sound so desperate. Under the familiar call of angry Wookiees protesting their fate was a call that was grating at Nacht’s ears.

 “Wookiees are never afraid, so neither must we be,” Pesst assured him stolidly, clapping a paw on his shoulder. “They only swear revenge in anger.”

But they didn’t. Nachkt had only heard it briefly before it was overtaken by war-cries, but clearly, one of the Wookiees was scared.

“We have _mounds_ of Jaganath points over this,” Pesst said triumphantly. He settled onto his haunches just inside the hall of holding cells. They’d made seven slaves this time, enough to give each its own private cell—that’s the way Commander Cassik liked it. If the Wookiees stayed together, they got testier faster and were harder to subdue when it was time for auctions. “Come on, let’s celebrate,” Pesst said, pulling a flask out of his vest. A putrid smell came off the contents.

“What _is_ that?” asked Nachkt, sensitive eyes watering. “It smells like fuel cells.”

Pesst laughed. “Took it off one of the prisoners. Some kind of spirit. Call it our spoils,” he said as he took a swig, coughed deeply, and passed it over.

“Keep it,” Nachkt snorted. “I have booze in my quarters. If I drink now I won’t make it through watch.”

“ _Litterling_ ,” Pesst mocked again without any real force, taking several more drinks. His coughing worsened, and his eyes slitted and dilated without focus. “No wonder they growl so. This rot _burns_.” Pesst raised his voice. “Do you hear that, carpets? Your liquor is _piss_.”

Nachkt rolled his eyes. What was the point of enraging them? His job was to watch, guard, and then go back to his quarters and live his life. Trandoshans like Pesst, who made it their lives’ work to harass the helpless, made no sense. They were wasting their breath.

Nachkt leaned heavily against the wall. He’d already been on duty for three hours He looked down at Pesst—only to find him completely unconscious.

“What?!,” Nachkt shrieked, dropping into a crouch next to his partner. Pesst was breathing, and his heartrate was at its proper, steady, slow beat. But now he was beginning to snore.

“What was in that?” Nachkt demanded with a roar, stalking down the row of cells. “Answer me!”

He heard the tell-tale bark of Wookiee laughter, but no answer came—only the deep booming of empty threats and promises of harm to his person. He wheeled on a cell at random. “What was it?” The blonde Wookiee inside only growled his rage.

[“Lizard cubs can’t even drink a sip of Grakkyn. Children.” The bark behind Nachkt materialized as a real answer in Shyrriwook.

Angry and confused, Nackht whirled on the Wookiee. “ _What_ did you say about being a child, you filthy beast?”

[“You heard me, cub!”

And just like that, they both froze. Nachkt blinked, unmoving, at the Wookiee before him in the durasteel holding cage. It had a beautiful pelt, dark and uniform, that would fetch a high price in the markets. The only discontinuity was the white face mask across its eyes, which stared at Nachkt, deep and brown, looking just as shocked as Nachkt felt.

[“You speak Shyriiwook?” the Wookiee demanded.

“You speak Dosh?” Nachkt retorted.

Obviously, the answer to both of those questions was the affirmative. It threw Nachkt hard enough that his concern from Pesst flew from his mind. “No Wookiee speaks Dosh,” he protested slowly, mindful not to flinch when the prisoner bared its teeth in humor.

[“We _speak_ Shyriiwook, but we understand others. All of us know Basic.”

Of course they did, but Nachkt had never _thought_ about that.

“But Dosh?”

[“Seems useful, does it not, to learn an enemy’s tongue?” the Wookiee laughed. [“You’ve done the same.”

Not on purpose, Nachkt thought, but he absolutely would not voice that. “Makes controlling prisoners easier,” he said instead as boldly as he could muster, stalking right up to the laser bars of the cell. He was many spans shorter than the Wookiee but Nachkt was both armed and unrestrained.

[“And Dosh lets me know what tortures you have planned for us.”

Nachkt had never spoken to a Wookiee before today, nor had he exercised the extent his understanding of their sounds. He was angered and shocked by this one’s accusations—and discomfited to realize that he could not retort.

“May your death come fast then, pup,” Nachkt replied snidely, and felt sick as he did so.

Before he could move to complete his dramatic exit, the dark Wookiee had thrown himself against the energy bars, startling Nachkt with the violence and noise.

[“My name is Rawrwargh, and you will not forget me!” he roared.

Nachkt knew not if the name was unusual or strange. He’d never before known the name of a prisoner at all. He turned on his heel and let, knowing to stay would only provoke his own temper. He had things to do—like bring Pesst out of his drunken haze. He could no longer be beguiled by the Wookiee Rawrwargh’s talk.

 

* * *

The raid itself had been such that they had not escaped unscathed. The ship’s hyperdrive had been damaged, and they crawled along as they waited for their sister-ship to arrive with the necessary replacements.

The ship itself was in relatively good repair—a few of the starboard escape pods had been knocked around, and lose ceiling paneling had fallen in many of the crew’s bunks. It was due to this that Nachkt lay now with his eyes on some internal wiring exposed in the ceiling.

He was thinking of the prisoners.

The expectation of a true Trandoshan was to use and honor their strength and the gifts that the Scorekeeper had granted them. Nachkt relished his body’s power in the glory of battle, the thrill of his alacrity, the skill he felt in his arms. He honored the Scorekeeper, even at a young age, with his prowess in battle—he had defended his clan in territorial disputes and was so recognized and offered a place aboard the slaver ship.

It had not been what he’d expected.

The Trandoshans, his fellow crew, were stupid and cruel, and their obsession with Jaganath points was startling. The points were essential, of course, but what of their purpose? They must be used to honor the Scorekeeper, not for blind glory at the expense of their fellows. This crew rushed headlong into battle and sacrificed their own for personal fame. They cared little for honor.

And Nachkt cared little for their cargo. This was not his first haul, but even in the beginning he had wondered what the real purpose of their ventures was.

There were some among the Trandoshans who believed the Wookiees to be an inferior species, but Nachkt could see now that at least that was not true. They had a mastery of tech, a complex language, and were capable of learning much, and quickly, if Rawrwargh was anything to compare to.

The image of the dark Wookiee in Nachkt’s mind was not his bared teeth or surging anger, but the swiftly quashed surprise and the barest suggestion of amusement as he came to the realization that Nachkt understood his every word. The expression was one of the first besides anger that he had seen on a Wookiee, and it continued to infiltrate his thoughts.

 

* * *

His watch-partner this shift was Ssekt, one of the largest and loudest Trandoshans on the ship. He had worked as a saver for years and was an asset to the ship. He was also derisive and cruel to his prisoners. Nachkt admired his fellow’s skills in battle, but he never liked working with him and was not amused by the liberties that Ssekt took with their captives.

Today was no different. When Nachkt arrived at his post, he could hear vaguely down the cell row the sounds of struggle. Turning the corner, he found the source of the trouble.

Ssekt and another crew member had one of the prisoners on the ground and were assaulting them with their electrified batons. The prisoner had a full-face muzzle on, probably to prevent the Guard Captain from hearing more than any other protection. Kessl was very careful about anything that might reduce the value of slaves, including unnecessary roughness once captured.

Nachkt did not appreciate Ssekt’s actions, but what could he do? Ssekt both out-ranked and out-weighed him, not to mention that he had backup. Nachkt tried to ignore the sounds of the other enraged captives and let Ssekt get bored—but he heard something distinguishable in the anger of the other prisoners.

[“—Let him go, you monster,” one roared.

[“He’s our youngest—!” protested another

[“—Let go of Rawrwargh!”

Nachkt finally recognized the captive on the ground. The dark Wookiee, the one who knew Trandoshan. Something shifted under his skin as Ssekt’s lackey rammed the baton into the Wookiee’s lower back. Rawrwargh howled behind his muzzle and his head jerked back before dropping limply to the floor again, his gaze now facing the door—and Nachkt.

Their eyes met, and whatever had jarred loose in Nachkt’s chest snapped back into place, quickly and painfully. He found himself wading into the fray with now plan, hissing poison into the air.

“Stop!” he ordered Ssekt, knocking the baton from his surprised grip and standing over Rawrwargh’s prone form.

Ssekt hissed and punched Nachkt full in the face. “Hands off my baton, litterling,” Ssekt said as Nachkt’s head snapped back and he stumbled.

Ssekt’s lackey took the opportunity to throw the Wookiee back into his cell before whirling to kick Nachkt, hard, in the thigh. It was ill-placed and didn’t make Nachkt fall as a blow to the knew would have, but it was enough to knock Nachkt into Ssekt’s fist once more, this time to the stomach, as he gasped out the contents of his lungs.

Ssekt growled above him. “What are you playing at?” he demanded as Nachkt fell to his knees. “How dare you attack me?”

Nachkt wheezed for breath even as he tried to adopt a submissive pose. He scrambled for an excuse for his temporary madness—what had he been thinking? Finally, he managed: “Heard—Kessl making—“ he wheezed harder, working to stabilize his diaphragm. “making rounds. Was—trying t’warn you—“

The only thing on the vessel that had any hope of moving Ssekt was authority, and only then if Ssekt could not hope to best said authority. The huge, terrible Kessl, Watch Commander and Guard Captain, was said to have once wrestled an enraged Wookiee bare and weaponless and eventually killed it by suffocation. Kessl guarded the cargo jealously, and would not stand for damaging its value.

Ssekt’s companion grew alarmed. “If…if it’s Kessl, I don’t want to be around.”

Ssekt was more suspicious. “Next time, try shouting it outta harm’s way, litterling.”’ He glared at Nachkt, who was still struggling to regulate his breathing. “I’ve got other things to do. Cover for me. Consider it making up for what you just tried to pull,” he snarled, slipping away with his friend. It was a sound idea—Ssekt would get worse from Kessl for damaging a Wookiee than for ditching his post, if Nachkt stuck around to cover.

And Nachkt wasn’t going anywhere—it felt like his snout and cheek were a giant bruise already, and blood was trickling across his gums. He heaved himself up into sitting position, slumped against the glowing bars of the cell. He wasn’t getting up further than that any time soon, however.

From behind him, he heard a strange, deep noise of distress, broken and jittering. He turned with effort to see Rawrwargh curled in the idle of the miserably tiny cell, twitching with the after-effects of the electric baton. The muzzle was still in place, and Nachkt swore to cover up the strange tightness in his throat.

“Let me get that off you,” he said gruffly.

Rawrwargh startled, turning quickly to face Nachkt, which only served to set of another series of mostly-involuntary shudders. He didn’t get any closer to Nachkt, however, and Nachkt didn’t blame him. He reached inside anyway, close enough to just brush the Wookiee’s arm, but no further.

“I—“ What could he say, though, to instill any kind of trust? He should just limp back to his post, but the idea of Rawrwargh still in there, cuffed and muzzled, was sinking claws into his brain. “Please. Just let me take it off.”

The Wookiee met his gaze finally, and Nachkt tried to return it steadily, ignoring the pounding headache developing behind his aural depressions. There must have been _something_ worth trusting in his eyes, because Rawrwargh heaved his great body up with visible effort, slumping against the bars, back to Nachkt’s.

Nachkt stifled a sigh of gratitude, fumbling to his knees and fishing for his cuff-keys. The cuffs came off first, and Nachkt poised himself, ready to leap back if the Wookiee turned on him through the bars. When he didn’t, Nachkt rolled to his feet to get at the muzzle lock. Rawrwargh flinched at the sudden movement and, without thinking, Nachkt shot out a hand to smooth the hair at the crown of his skull.

The Wookiee’s pelt was matted, but softer than he had imagined, and his fingers raked through it experimentally. Below him, Rawrwargh stiffened, and Nachkt made to draw away, but his fingers scratched further along Rawrwargh’s scalp and, accompanied by a heavy and tired sigh, Nachkt felt the Wookiee give up just a little more of his weight against the bars.

Startled at the response and needing to remove himself, Nachkt withdrew and flipped the latch on the muzzle, wincing as it dropped to the floor with a clang. His head was pounding again, so he sank to the floor, back-to-back with Rawrwargh through the bars, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

[“You weren’t supposed to do that.” Rawrwargh’s voice was raw, even for a Wookiee. [“Why did you do that?” he demanded.

No, he was _not_ supposed to have done that. Why had he intervened?

“You’re smart,” Nachkt snorted. “You tell me.” _He_ couldn’t say.

[“You think that of me?”

Nachkt hadn’t meant to say that, either. It seemed that his faculties were flying out the airlock, where the Wookiee was concerned. He pressed on, trying to cover. “Tell me how you learned Dosh, then.”

There was a growl at his back, and after a moment Nachkt realized that Rawrwargh was clearing his throat.

_Oh._

Nachkt passed his canteen through the bars without question, turning to face Rawrwargh as he did. Rawrwargh did the same, and they found themselves both crouched on the floor and staring intently at each other.

[“Syntax is easy,” Rawrwargh said after a long moment. [“I—It’s easy to see how things…go…together.” He finished on an uptick, unsure of his wording. [“Your language is like a new blaster. The parts are essentially the same, they just go together in different ways.”

As he spoke, Rawrwargh’s paws moved in a pattern familiar to anyone with weapons training—the smooth glide of disarming a blaster, unloading the fuel cell, cleaning it. When he finished the unconscious ritual, however, he started over again, his fingers twitching like they needed something in their grip.

“You’re good with blasters, then?” Nachkt asked.

Rawrwargh barked a bright noise, a laugh, and Nachkt was broadsided by it. Rawrwargh’s face was open and joyous in the moment, and Nachkt was not sure if he’d ever seen a Wookiee’s eyes so happy.

The Wookiee in question pressed on, oblivious. [“Good with? I work as a weapons engineer! None in my cohort know weapons, any weapon, as well as I do.” Rawrwargh’s eyes were alight with excitement. “I could disassemble your sidearm in seconds, and put it together more efficiently in minutes. Blaster DL-22, right? Cub’s work.”

Nachkt let his tongue flick out in a Trandoshan expression of incredulity. He opened his mouth to challenge or tease, but instead another Wookiee rebuke echoed at them from down the cell row.

[“What are you telling him? Those slimebacks don’t understand.” One of the older Wookiees yelled down at Rawrwargh. [“Only their leaders know even a little Shyrriwook.”

Rawrwargh called back something ambiguously assenting, and Nachkt clenched his jaw. “Are they…okay?” he asked Rawrwargh. “Your cohort?”

Rawrwargh looked at him curiously, but his answer was curt. [“As well as they can be,” he said pointedly.

Nachkt felt his throat tighten, and he did not like the feeling of shame that flooded through him. This was not his first haul of slaves. He got to his feet, even though his head still protested. He needed to walk away.

Rawrwargh looked startled, annoyed, and perhaps a little desperate.

“I have to go back to my post,” Nachkt muttered.

[“You’ll—“ Rawrwargh’s voice faltered. [“Will you come back?”

Nachkt was confused. “Why?”

[“I’m—“ Rawrwargh gestured to the tiny cell, barely long enough from him to lay down in. [“I’m going mad in here. You talked to me. I’d hoped—you know what, never mind.” His words turned suddenly harsh. [“How could I possibly ask a _Trandoshan_ to—“

“I’ll be back,” Nachkt cut in quietly, seriously. “I need to go now, but I”ll be back.”

Rawrwargh sighed quietly and Nachkt watched the tension draining out of his shoulders. Nachkt turned to go, but Rawrwargh growled at him again. [“Thank you for stopping the others.”

Nachkt stiffened but didn’t turn around.

“I’ll keep doing it,” he promised foolishly. “Protecting you. And your cohort,” he threw in, his belly cold. “As long as…as long as I can.”

It was the best he could do, he thought, and hated himself.

 

* * *

On his next shift, Nachkt returned with the second-level stash of meal bars. Every level had a few caches of emergency supplies in event of technical emergency. The hatches were filled with rehydrating pills, food supplies, and, essential to cold-blooded creatures like Trandoshans, PHA suits. The suits, short for Personal Heating Apparatuses, prevented temperature fluctuations from unduly effecting their circulatory systems. Although Trandoshans were hardy, extreme temperatures could be troublesome, even dangerous.

Pesst was Nachkt’s guard partner again today, and he was roaring drunk already. It was unsurprisingly easy to give him the slip. Nachkt walked away as casually as he could and Pesst peered at him with an unfortunate sort of lopsided smile.

“Don’t let Kessl catch you harassing the cargo; ‘pparently he whooped Ssekt’s hindquarters for almost damaging the goods,” he told Nachkt companionably.

Nachkt nodded seriously. He slid down the hall, which was much quieter these last few days. It always happened like this—the slaves eventually gave up their rage into exhaustion, loneliness, and helplessness. Not looking at them and feeling the lowest kind of dishonorable, Nachkt tossed meal bars through the cages at the Wookiees there.

When he got to the last cell, he saw Rawrwargh sprawled on the floor, head bowed. The Wookiee looked up in alarm as Nachkt approached, only to relax heartbreakingly fast when he recognized the Trandoshan. His eyes were still bright and searching, which was something Nachkt hadn’t realized would provide such relief. He pushed the last two meal bars through the bars, along with his water flask, squatting down in front of Rawrwargh. The Wookiee looked at the offerings guilelessly, glancing at Nachkt in confusion.

[“Really?” he wanted to know, cautious.

Nachkt nodded as earnestly as he could. “I really wanted to—yes. Yes, really.”

It was enough for Rawrwargh, who took to the food with a touch of desperation. Nachkt swallowed the heaviness in his throat.

[“I can’t read you at all,” Rawrwargh told him, leaning forward as he drained Nachkt’s flask. [“Everything’s so dark and it’s hard to see what’s going on in those big eyes.

Nachkt blinked. “You—can’t see?”

Rawrwargh shrugged. [“I can. It’s just hard. Something about Trandoshan vision, maybe.”

Nachkt hadn’t thought of that before. “Perhaps? We can see quite well.”

[“It would be nice to see colors better,” Rawrwargh snorted in mild irritatin. “I want to know what you look like. I mean, the details.”

“Why?” Nachkt blurted.

This time, Rawrwargh seemed to be at a loss for words.

[“It would be good to know,” he finally mumbled. His hands moved restlessly again, grasping for weapons that weren’t there. “The others won’t speak to me. They’re scared. The guards—they love their batons. You’re the only one who has been remotely kind to me and I can’t even say for certain what color your eye are. I—“ The growl he let out was not Shyriiwook, but frustration. [“It’s terrifying to sleep here because what, really, is going to happen to me? No one cares if I live or die-not the damned lizards, no one on this whole slaver ship, but I thought that If I pretended that I had a friend—“ He let out a strangled noise that was less angry than Nachkt had expected, full of something else, colder and heavier.

Nachkt wasn’t sure what to call the feeling that was cracking through him, the shift in certainties. Nachkt had taken so much comfort, in the wars on Tra’dok, from the immutable order f the world. He knew what brought honor, and knew the structure of the Scorekeeper’s moral code. He knew slaving was an expression of his faith and his selfless contribution to order. He was contributing to the absolute good of the ordered universe.

And the being before him, scared and courageous and bracing for pain, stolid and trusting and strong even as he sat locked in a cell, would die by his hand.

How could the Scorekeepers ordain a world such as this?

“You have a friend,” Nachkt promised Rawrwargh fervently, reckless and honest. “I’ll find a way to—“

Rawrwargh narrowed his eyes and growled a warning. [“Don’t. You can’t, and you wouldn’t want to.”

But Nachkt did. He hated it, but he did.

He stopped, though, because this wasn’t helping Rawrwargh, and was adding to the clear panic and despair in him.

“Tell me what you like about weapons,” Nachkt said instead, throwing the subject into the middle of them like a lifeline.

Miraculously, Rawrwargh took it.

It was clear that the Wookiee was intelligent and creative in the extreme, and Nachkt at times had to concentrate very hard to make sense of all the leaps in subject and passion that Rawrwargh took, struggling with the language as well as the Wookiee’s singular mind. When Nachkt spoke in turn, it was with self-consciousness, knowing he didn’t have the same dynamism, nor accomplishment. When Rawrwargh asked him about his life, what he liked, Nachkt kept his answer laconic, bored by himself and expecting scorn or boredom in turn.

“I’ve been reading the histories,” he told Rawrwargh. “There is much to learn.”

Rawrwargh cocked his head in interest. [“Tell me of them.”

Nachkt just shook his head. “I haven’t gotten far.”

Rawrwargh would not be put off, however. He laid heavily against the wall. [“Tell me a story,” he pressed teasingly, but his voice was low, slow. He looked exhausted, and Nachkt’s watch shift was almost up.

“You should sleep,” Nachkt said, making to stand. “And I need to leave.”

Rawrwargh started, but caught himself quickly. [“We’ve been talking a long time, haven’t we?”

“Yes.” Nachkt shrugged. “And you look tired.”

Rawrwargh huffed. [“This place isn’t conducive for sleeping.” He paused like he wanted to say something more, and Nachkt waited, letting him work through it. [“I wake up a lot,” he finally finished carefully. His face twisted as he tried to make it appear fierce. [“Your rutting ship makes too much noise. We’re down by the engines, I can tell.”

“I can’t tell a story,” Nachkt told him. “But I could stay until you fall asleep.”

[“It’s not as though I need—“ Rawrwargh broke in harshly.

“May I?”

Rawrwargh was hurt, alone, scared—and proud. Nachkt grappled with the little he could give him.

[“If you want.”

Nachkt sighed, watching Rawrwargh sink further into the floor, stretched out as best as he could. His furry bulk was pressed up against the bars, his head turned away from Nachkt.

It was quiet for a long, strained moment.

[“Thank you,” Rawrwargh mumbled, almost too low to hear

Nachkt leaned the side of his body carefully against the bars, letting his thighs touch the warmth of Rawrwargh’s arm, pressing them together in a series of strange, heavy points. Nachkt found his chest painfully tight even as he heart Rawrwargh’s breath start to slow. He couldn’t for his life reply.

As Rawrwargh faded, Nachkt began to think—to plan. An escape. He’d set the prisoners free and send Rawrwargh away from here. Nachkt’s points might reset, but in his heart, he could finally feel the path which would lead him to honor.

His paw brushed against Rawrwargh’s deceptively soft fur and carded gently through it. He heard a pleased noise rumble out of the sleeping Wookiee and startled, thinking to pull away from Rawrwargh before he woke. However, a heavy arm shot out across the Wookiee’s chest to grab his paw and press it more firmly into Rawrwargh’s fur.

Nachkt did as he was bid as Rawrwargh drifted off again, warm and gratified and determined.

 

* * *

The next two standard days passed in a sort of pattern. The _Defenestrator_ was still drifting, with the repair ship running another three days of delay. Nachkt spent most of his time on duty, weaseling himself into guard shifts and more or less gracefully finding a way to spend them in Rawrwargh’s company.

They talked about most everything and, after that first evening, Nachkt found himself growing increasingly more tactile with the Wookiee, pleased by the happiness evident in Rawrwargh when he did so.

[“Tell me what the about the histories interests you,” Rawrwargh pressed the second day, pacing in a pathetically aborted way around his tiny cell. His fingers twitched almost constantly in complicated patterns. The captivity was getting to him swiftly.

“I’m not sure,” Nachkt said honestly, but tried harder to elaborate, seeing how badly Rawrwargh needed distraction. “I learn not only what our people are, but why. And not just ours—there are philosophies expanded upon in our past brought to us from other Saurians, and farther.” He frowned. “The Scorekeeper may hold Trandoshans accountable, but others have notions of honor that I understand clearly.”

Rawrwargh made an approving noise as he stopped briefly in his pacin.

[“Every race has their own definiteion of it, huh?” He laughed. “Maybe yours isn’t the ultimate knowledge after all.”

“You’re teasing,” Nachkt accused him, somewhat mollified. He snapped his jaw shut, regretting his attempts to elaborate. “I might not be clever, but—“

[“Hey,” Rawrwargh interrupted. “Who told you that? That’s not true.”

Nachkt wasn’t having it, though. “It doesn’t’ need to be said,” he laughed. “I’m as lost as a blind droid when it comes to philosophy—or, or computers, perhaps, or anything that isn’t pointing and shooting. But I’m strong, so that will make up for it.” It had to. “I’ll let you be the clever one.”

Rawrwargh shook his head, snorting. [“I’d give anything for my bowcaster again,” he finally said. “Just for something to do with my hands.”

Nachkt stilled. He hadn’t been certain if he wanted to say something now, especially knowing that he was _not_ clever, but this opening was as good as he could hope for. He didn’t want to give Rawrwargh false hope, but he needed to be prepared.

“And…if you could—what else would you have with you?”

[“My ryyk blades,” Rawrwargh answered without hesitation.

“Ought else?”

Rawrwargh narrowed his eyes suspiciously. [“Nachkt…?”

Nachkt tried for casual, leaning as coolly as he could on the bars, one hand curling around them reflexively. “I just meant…If. If you had a choice of your gear and a way out, what would you want?”

Rawrwargh surged forward, trapping Nachkt’s hand in his as his eyes widened. [“Nachkt, _no_. Whatever your’e thinking—there is no way to do this now. Wait until we’re…wherever we are going. On a planet. Too much could go wrong now.”

Nachkt shook his head. “Look. I have a plan, or part of one, and I could get you and the others—“

[“Hurt!” Rawrwargh interrupted. “Hurt, killed, cornered in the middle of nothing but vast space. And if you help us, they might hurt you too.”

That was really the least of Nachkt’s worries. He didn’t shy away from danger; he was a Trandoshan! "I’ll find a way, Rawrwargh, and if you don’t want to foil it from the start, you’ll move fast when I tell you to.”

Nachkt did not miss the spark of hope under Rawrwarghs concerned expression. He gently pulled himself out of the death-grip Rawrwargh had on his hand, only to twine their fingers gently together. It was as bld a move as he’d ever made, and he was sick with the significance of it—but he wouldn’t extricate himself. Couldn’t.

Rawrwargh, without hesitation, tightened his grip and yanked Nachkt right up to the bars.

[“Don’t make me watch you get hurt,” he ordered. Ever so gently, he laid his forehead against the bars, and Nachkt did as well. They were so close to embracing and still so damnably far. [“I don’t want to have to see that.”

“I want to see you happy,” Nachkt mumbled, his mouth suddenly full of Wookiee chest fur.

[“And I want to..see you. Out there. I want to—Nachkt.”

There was no graceful way to react, and Nachkt didn’t try for one. His body _surged_ as he rolled up onto his toes, grabbing at the back of Rawrwargh’s head, yanking him down so he could kiss him hungrily, like he hadn’t known he had wanted to until right at that moment.

It was _everything._

At it hurt, because they were pressed to either side of the bars, struggling for contact, but Nachkt took the pressure and the pain as part of what kissing Rawrwargh meant. He almost crowed with pride and unadulterated joy as Rawrwargh tried to clutch him closer. It was incredible to know in that moment that he was wanted just as much as he wanted the Wookiee whose chest was trembling under his fingers and Nachkt’s other hand was tangled in his neck-fur.

Rawrwargh tore himself from the kiss, clutching his powerful paws against Nachkt’s back and letting out a long, low call that sounded like joy and desire and frustration all rolled into one.

“I will have you, Rawrwargh,” Nacht bit out, leaning up to nip gently on Rawrwargh’s lower lip to temper the heat and sudden explosive anger in his body. “I will have you safe. And free. And only then—“

[“Then _I_ will have _you_ ,” Rawrwargh promised darkly, and Nachkt shuddered at the glimpse of the power and rage in him. It was devastating.

“Do you promise?” Nachkt dared him, because he could never let a thing go.

Rawrwargh kissed him again with a strength that Nachkt longed to pit against his own.

And he would, as soon as he set the prisoners free.

 

* * *

In the end, Rawrwargh had asked for two things specifically—his ryyk blades, and his bowcaster. They were easy enough to procure. The materials confiscated from the prisoners weren’t heavily guarded, and would be given to a fence once they returned to Tra’dok, so inventory was lazy until the last minute. It was the work of a minute in the middle of sleep-cycle to cast up and down the empty hall, slip in, and grab the pack that Rawrwargh had described. The ryyk blades were inside, and Nachkt decided that any bowcaster would have to do, and took the closest. As an afterthought, he also grabed a spare blaster, and had all stowed in the part of the ceiling panel that had been jarred loose in the raid.

The other half of his plan involved biding his time. He had thought to use emergency escape pods to evacuate the Wookiees, but they’d all been damaged to some extent. He was fairly certain one or two were operational, but not enough to facilitate an effective escape for seven Wookiees. Instead, he would have to wait until they docked on Tra’dok and sneak them out on the docks.

Before Nachkt’s next guard shift, Nachkt roamed the many halls and corridors of the _Defenestrator_ , looking for weaknesses and wracking his brain for a concrete plan. He checked the escape pods again, but it was as he feared: only one looked even remotely escape-worthy. He might be able to jettison one and sneak the prisoners out once they were on the ground…?

Nachkt found himself in the engine room, which had been largely abandoned until they could get their replacement parts. Their sister-ship was approximately a standard day out, until then, not much was to be done there.

Nachkt skulked around, but didn’t find much of import; at least, nothing that he recognized. The ship’s oxygen recirculation system was here, as was something that looked like temperature and climate controls. Everything else was various shades of indefinable.

 _Rawrwargh would know what this was_ , Nachkt thought in frustration. He couldn’t help but think they would be a good team. The Wookiee had the technical know-how and Nachkt was very good at destroying things.

Nachkt, really, didn’t have a lot else to offer.

It was with that thought percolating in the back of his head that Nacht took up his guard post. He was put with Ssekt again, which could have been uncomfortable, but the older Trandoshan was determined to ditch his shift again.

“If Kessl thinks I’m gonna sit around here after he was bein’ such a bastard about me having a little fun--!” Ssekt was sputtering.

It seemed as if Nachkt’s original lie about Kessl learning of the Wookiee-abuse had come to actual fruition; Nachkt wondered and feared who else had witnessed other violence, and who had told. He was glad, however, to see Ssekt sneak off once more--off to find whatever leisure or trouble might occur at this time of wake-cycle.

Ssekt left slowly, however, still ranting. “He can’t be angry about roughin’ up the cargo a bit, especially the ones that we’re goin’ ta skin when _Cataclysm_ gets in with our parts.”

Nachkt’s heart gave one powerful throb, and then felt as if it stopped. He struggled to find the breath necessary to ask inanely, “…skin them…?”

Ssekt snorted. “Kessl’s branching out, since we got so many pretty ones this round. Gotta have the pelts ready by the time we dock, and _Cataclysm_ has the tools. So what if I put a few holes in the black one? It’ll be a rug soon.”

Nachkt barely noticed that Ssekt had slipped off in his continual bad humor; his eyes were unfocused and his biceps were shaking.

The black one—that was Rawrwargh.

It was with panic that he scrambled down the hall of cells, irrationally needing to see Rawrwargh and make sure he was still whole and—

The Wookiee’s face was curved into an expression of delight as Nachkt came into sight, and Nachkt saved that sight in his heart to marvel over if he had a chance, when all this was over.

“Be ready,” was all he could get out of his mouth as he rounded on Rawrwarghs cell. His mind was several places at once, planning. He jumped in surprise as he felt warmth close over his claws where he had braced them on the bars of the cell.

[“Nachkt?” Rawrwargh trilled his question, searching Nachkt’s face. [“What’s happening?”

“You’re in danger,” Nachkt snapped, trying to concentrate on the warm palms covering his hands. Wookiees were so blessedly _warm—“_ I need to—we need to go. I’ll find a way.”

[“Nachkt, explain to me what happened,” Rawrwargh pressed. [“Are you cold? You’re shaking.”

Nachkt snorted inelegantly. “No, I’m not cold. If I was, you would know it; Trandoshans are so sensitive…to—“ He jerked back in alarm. “Yes!” An actual plan was starting to form. He finally met Rawrwargh’s worried gaze. “I’m getting you out of here.”

[“Wait—“

“They’re going to skin you! Alive, because it’s easiest to remove the hide when you’re still bleeding,” Nachkt hissed at him, hating the fear and horror that came across the Wookiee’s face, but needing it to be there so he knew his point was made and Rawrwargh would do as he was told.

“We are leaving. I will not let that happen. Wait for me.” He didn’t elaborate, didn’t wait for a response, even as Rawrwargh growled his frustration behind him. The _Cataclysm_ was growing closer by the moment.

 

* * *

 

He forced himself to slow when he reached the main halls. He’d go in a triangle—first to the emergency supplies on level two. He pulled out a PHA suit, then shredded the others with his claws. He couldn’t hit every emergency cache, but this was the most heavily trafficked and the most well-stocked. He was able to sabotage two more on his way to the engine room.

He didn’t know how smoothly this would work, but it was his best, and possibly only, shot. His standard-issue blaster took out the climate control apparatus, and the auxillary warning system on the wall as well—right after he turned off every heating appliance that the ship had.

Extreme cold would make a cold-blooded Trandoshan comatose; it would only slow them down. It was like operating under excessive alcohol consumptions. Some Trandoshans would black out, but most others would only have slow reflexes and impaired judgement.

It would have to be enough. Nachkt would sneak Rawrwargh out on the only functioning escape pod; he couldn’t rescue the others right now.

But he would. He fired his blaster into the controls and vowed that he would rescue them all, because he had done so much evil and may never be right in the ledger of the Scorekeeper.

He stalked to the smoking ruin of a box that ran climate control alarms and took that out, too. It might not shut down the Low-Temp alert system,, but he hoped it would.

The temperature would not drop immediately, but Trandoshans could be sensitive to even minute shifts. Nachkt flipped the PHA suit on immediately, slipping back into the hallway. It took him what felt like a long time to get back to his quarters and grab his and Rawrwargh’s pack. By the time he was maing his way to the holding cells, he was starting to feel it on his exposed feet and claws.

He heard very little on his way down the levels, and the temperature was dropping rapidly. The halls had gone deserted and he hoped that maybe his plan had—

A klaxon sounded right beside his head—the main alarm, which was going off on the general alert. The Low-Temp alert had been overridden. It seemed he had already been found out.

Nachkt set off at a run, taking the last stretch of hall at a full sprint.

He unclipped the keys from his waist, throwing open Rawrwargh’s cell.

“Move!” he roared, tossing one of the packs at the Wookiee. “They might be so focused on the climate controls that they don’t notice us.”

Rawrwargh, to his credit, did as he was told—at least at first. He was running behind Nachkt, who was feeling his extremities getting numb.

[“What did you do?” Rawrwargh asked breathlessly—he’d been asked to move fast after days of being locked in a cell so small that he was almost immobilized. [“What about the others?”

Nachkt had a million replies—there was no time; the others were not the ones who would be skinned; the _Defenestrator_ would be less likely to hunt down a single run-away than their entire bounty; should they escape. He tried to put his reasoning into words, but it was painfully hard.

Apparently, the stricken look on his face said enough. Rawrwargh balked immediately. [“No! I’m not—“

The beam of a hand blaster silenced him, striking the wall beside his head. From down the hall stood, with effort, a Trandoshan foot soldier, struggling to level the gun at them. He had no PHA suit.

He was also in Nachkt’s way, firing at what was _his_. Nachkt took the guard down at the knee, the Trandoshan too sluggish to be much of a moving target. He went down with hiss.

[“No, Nachkt, I—“

More blaster fire and a Dosh call for Wookiee blood echoed back down the way they had come.

“We _can’t_ ,” Nachkt pleaded, catching hold of Rawrwargh’s arm, twining his fingers in his fur. “I need to get you out of here.”

The blasts became a lot more accurate as  the guards rounded the corner behind them.

“Let’s go!”

There was no other direction to go but towards the escape pods. The Trandoshan guards behind them couldn’t keep up—only one had thought to grab a suit. They ran.

The subsequent halls were another story. Organized chaos reigned—Nachkt realized that he hadn’t heard any intercom above the klaxon. Everyone on board knew there was an emergency; not everyone was certain of what that emergency was.

The call was going out that the PHA suits on this level were damaged. Nachkt felt a sense of pride—which was quickly overcome by adrenaline as his crew noticed the Wookiee hulking behind him.

“Down, to the left!” Nachkt yelled, firing his blaster back at their pursuers. He hoped desperately he didn’t hit anyone, but his priority was clear.  He didn’t pause to see what had happened, just taking off behind the howling Wookiee. Rawrwargh’s ryyk blades were out, broadsiding anyone who he ran into.

Nachkt took up the rear—the single working escape pod was fairly clear in front of them, but more Trandoshans were streaming in from the sides. There were eight in all, including the two that were behind Nachkt still.

“Get that escape pod operational!” Nachkt ordered. “Make sure it isn’t damaged.”

Rawrwargh howled and stunned two more Trandoshans before lunging into the pod. Nachkt just had to clear them a little space so no one was shooting the door as they took off.

His blaster was on stun, but he felt it in his chest when he levelled it and fired at his own kin. Another Trandoshan went down, five were left, and energy blasts were whizzing past his head, hot and crackling. These weren’t stun bolts being fired back at him.

“Traitor!”

It was Commander Kessl, standing at the end of the hall, blaster levelled right at the bulk of Rawrwargh that was visible through the pod door.

“Stand down,” he ordered. Nachkt was unimpressed. He fired, missed, and watched his commander return fire.

Nachkt didn’t move out of the way; if he had, it might have hit the pod. It might have hit Rawrwargh.

Instead, the bold clipped Nachkt’s shoulder. It was at that moment that hugely strong arms yanked Nachkt into the pod as the door slammed closed. A moment later, they had ejected and were speeding off into space.

“Are they following?” Nachkt demanded, but he doubted they would, not without the missing hyperdrive parts, not in pursuit of a single piece of cargo, no matter how stinging the blow.

[“Are you injured?” Rawrwargh demanded, big eyes frantic and hands pressing into Nachkt’s hip, his chest, checking him over.

“It’s fine,” Nachkt told him, and it was. Trandoshan skin was thick enough to take a glancing blaster blow—the top layer of epidermis was smouldering a bit, but it was no worse an injury than a friction scrape. Nachkt would have taken worse, anyway, if it had meant protecting Rawrwargh.

The blast, however, _had_ fried the coils in the PHA suit, and without the warmth of it Nachkt felt a sudden headiness come upon him. He let Rawrwargh finish peeling him out of the suit, letting the worried touches linger before everything got just a little bit too cold and slow for comfort.

“Is the…ship thermostat…working…?” Nachkt asked, his tongue feeling heavy. Rawrwargh was content enough with Nachkt’s relative safety to turn away, back to the limited instrument panel in the pod. With a grunt, Rawrwargh had twisted one instrument off the dashboard, and tapped another knowingly.

He held up the bundle of wires he had just yanked out, presenting it to Nachkt. [“Homing beacon. Now no one knows we’re out here. We’re headed towards Bimesari. With any luck, in a few hours, we will be there without anyone the wiser.”

 “’N the heat?”

Rawrwargh shrugged rather helplessly. [“Coming on, just slowly. Really slowly.”

Nachkt sat down heavily. It wasn’t a _worry_ , but he certainly didn’t _like_ feeling this disconnected.

Rawrwargh watched him from where he sat in what might have been the captain’s chair, if the pod had any way to steer at all. The Wookiee eyed Nachkt thoughtfully, but before Nachkt could become suspicious, he was being swept off his seat and folded into the Wookiee’s lap.

_Oh._

Rawrwargh was _warm_ —warm and furred and big enough to wrap himself around Nachkt and pull him so they were back-to-chest.

[“Survival lesson: share body heat.” Rawrwargh teased as Nachkt tried very hard not to purr.

“As long as you think its best,” Nachkt returned, and knew he would be very embarrassed, later, at how biddable he was being. It was hard to deny, however, how good Rawrwargh smelled or how welcome the comfort was after what felt like hours of crisis.

While the pod temperature regulated, Nachkt drifted until he felt a change in Rawrwargh’s breathing behind him. He heard a chuff of air, followed by another, and while they continued, Nachkt realized that Rawrwargh was _laughing_ , somewhat hystericaly, he could add.

“Should I worry?” Nachkt asked, half kidding. He felt almost back to normal now, if a bit sluggish. Twisting to look up into Rawrwargh’s face, he startled when Rawrwargh buried his nose into Nachkt’s shoulder instead. “Rawrwargh?” Nachkt asked again.

The Wookiee trilled an “all clear” sound but took a bit longer to be able to breath and speak.

[“We did it,” He finally said, eyes wet. [“I didn’t think we could make it. My brothers didn’t—“ and that sobered him fast, [“—and I will return for them. But I have the chance to do so.”

Nachkt waited for him to raise his head, needing to look him in the face when he promised, “ _We_ have the chance to do so.”

The Wookiee may have argued, but Nachkt shook his head. “Their capture is a red mark in my ledger and I…would not have you go alone.”

He felt the trilling breath Rawrwargh let out against his skin.

[“I am glad not to be alone,” Rawrwargh admitted.

Nachkt was uninclined to move—Rawrwargh was uninclined to let him go. They had hours before they even got close to Bimesari, and the lassitude of the leaching adrenaline was falling over them both. Half drowsing, Nachkt moved slightly, shifting his hips. He was surprised to hear a soft churr from behind him.

“Sorry, did I hurt—“

Oh.

That was not a noise of distress.

As Nachkt hitched forward just a little farther, he butted up against Rawrwargh’s lap. That was biologically fascinating. Nachkt was unfamiliar, generally, with the specifics of the Wookiee reproductive system, but it seemed as if they had a genital pouch hidden under layers of groin fur—until aroused.

Nachkt smiled toothily. “Rawrwargh?”

The Wookiee had stiffened behind him, making an embarrassed noise. This amused Nachkt, and he was overcome with curiosity. Before Rawrwargh could say anything, he had slid off his lap and onto his knees between Rawrwargh’s thighs.

By the _Scorekeeper_ , he was impressive. Nachkt was not used to being faced with a single penis, but mammalians made up for numbers with girth.

Rawrwargh’s cock was flared and heavy, supported by a thin strut of bone that ran along it dorsally. Nachkt held it carefully, running soft finger pads over the velvety length in curiosity.

At the touch, Rawrwargh let out a whine and clenched his fists on the chair arms. Nachkt felt more blood rush into the member, making it impossibly more rigid—even as he felt his own hemipenes drop from their retracted state. Somehow, _his_ touch was doing this to Rawrwargh. The Wookiee was letting out a deep, thrumming, constant groan as Nachkt took his time just _touching_. Rawrwargh was warm here, too, his skin softer and the hair finer. And he was so responsive, slick playing out over the pointed tip of his cock.

Rawrwargh’s chest vibrated with strain, and his eyes were narrowed in a way that meant “embarrassed” in Wookiee body language. Nachkt resolved that he would make his partner forget any shame he had, and proceeded to do something that never failed to shock and thrill his bed-partners.

“Rawrwargh, watch,” Nachkt prompted, and, bringing his muzzle towards Rawrwargh’s lap, delicately stuck out his tongue to lick at the tip of the Wookiee’s cock.

In a species with prominent fangs, oral sex was almost never participated in except among the most trusting couples. Nachkt, however, was finding a heated and dark sense of possessiveness creep upon him. He wanted everything of Rawrwargh—his taste, his scent, and hopefully, the Wookiee’s release inside him.

Nachkt’s thighs tensed in sudden arousal. Yes, he liked that idea very, very much.

Apparently, Rawrwargh did as well, because both the growling and trembling became more intense as the Wookiee’s head snapped back. Nachkt was darkly amused by the thought of how it must feel, the first touch of a forked tongue on the Wookiee’s hard flesh.

Another taboo of oral sex, in Trandoshan culture, was the sheer intimacy of it. The hyper-sensitivity of Trandoshan tongues was not to be taken lightly, and some found the taste of an intimate partner overwhelming. Nachkt found with surprise and a thrill that it was just the right side of “too much”, and he could not get enough of it. He set about running his tongue along every inch of Rawrwargh’s cock, tonguing the base and teasing the head, running along the thin bone that supported the dorsal edge. The combined taste and scent was intoxicating, and Nachkt was lost in it.

He felt the way Rawrwargh’s thighs tensed in tiny, aborted thrusting motions and Nacht paused long enough to stare curiously up at his Wookiee.

Rawrwargh’s eyes were narrowed into slits of lust and embarrassment, but his throat vibrated with constant noise. Some of it coalesced into fragments of language.

[“More, Nachkt—I need—my knot—And I need to see—“

It made precious little sense to Nachkt, who grinned up at Rawrwargh in encouragement and smugness.

“Tell me. What do you want?”

The trill was so high-pitched as to be a whine.

[“I can’t--!”

“Tell me.”

Rawrwargh closed his eyes. [“I need to—I want to—Nachkt, I want to knot you, but we have nothing to open you and—“

Nachkt’s head spun momentarily, caught up in the buzz of arousal, the smell of his lover, and the heady knowledge that he was reducing the gregarious and whip-smart Wookiee into incoherence. It took him some moments to understand the gist of what Rawrwargh was asking, and longer still to parse through his concerns.

Nachkt couldn’t help baring his teeth in a feral grin.

“I don’t fault you for not understanding Trandoshan biology, but if knotting me is what you want—“

Nachkt had very much wanted to sink into Rawrwargh himself, but this was to be the first time, he hoped, of many. Instead, he happily divested himself of the combat pants and boots hindering him, hoping his display enticed Rawrwargh to watch, but desperately unsure if he had succeeded.

Of course, he was more than gratified to hear the soft gasp as his clothing fell to the pod floor.

No, Rawrwargh had not known about the hemipenes—and he would not know about the rest, either.

“Barbed,” Nachkt explained with a bit of misplaced pride as Rawrwargh looked on. The two slender shafts were slick as they rose, straining, out of Nachkt’s genital slit.

[“Can—may I—“

Nachkt almost laughed. Of course the tactile Wookiee thought first to touch. He did one better, straddling Rawrwargh somewhat awkwardly, as he reclined in his chair.

They both gasped as sensitive areas brushed and slid beside each other. Nachkt felt Rawrwargh’s hand slip between their bodies and close curiously around both of Nachkt’s hemipenes. The Wookiee’s finger pads were rougher than a Trandoshan’s, but Nachkt found the touch tempered by gentleness and deftness. Momentarily overwhelmed, Nachkt rocked his hips, dragging his twin penises through Rawrwargh’s soft belly-fur.

His pelvic bone bumped against Rawrwargh’s still-straining cock, and Rawrwargh’s grip tightened pleasurably as he groaned.

“It’s a same Trandoshans and Wookiees are enemies because our bodies are made for each other,” Nachkt promised, smug beyond reasoning, because he knew Rawrwargh would like this surprise.

He grabbed Rawrwargh’s wrist, guiding his hand between his scaly thighs.

As part of a Trandoshan genital slit, further back, the reptilian biology accounted for a cloaca, and, best for Rawrwargh’s pressing needs, they were self-lubricating.

Rawrwargh’s eyes widened in shock, but Nachkt was close enough to see the dilated pupils, to scent the arousal with his sensitive tongue. “Do you feel that?” Nachkt asked, but he must have because the Wookiee’s thick fingers teased gently around the rim.

“I can take it,” Nachkt promised. What he meant was _please_. Rawrwargh was too far gone not to comply.

Thank the Scorekeeper that Nachkt was dilated, that he understood what he would face. He lifted up, and Rawrwargh, fingers rough and possessive, lifted Nachkt’s chin and kissed him, very gently, asking permission.

Carefully, Nachkt sank down Rawrwargh’s cock.

 _Hot_. _Blood hot_. The Wookiee’s cock seared its presence into Nachkt’s body and memory. He felt himself open, and was overwhelmed. No Trandoshan compared to the inexorable descent of Rawrwargh’s thick, hard cock into him. Almost an afterthought, Nachkt’s eyes flipped open, locking on Rawrwargh’s.

Made for each other, indeed. They were too keyed up. It could not have lasted long. Even as Nachkt slid slowly up and down on Rawrwargh’s shaft, he knew they had waited too long and given up too much to hld back. Sparks fled along Nachkt’s belly as Rawrwargh moved inside him, and in the most absurd sense, Nachkt felt peace. He gave up his security, his people, his very god for the sake of the Wookiee beneath him. He knew now, as for deep as the Wookiee could reach, that he was worth it.

Rawrwargh leaned forward and licked roughly along Nachkt’s jaw and aural depressions, the sensation feeling like a pressure and spark across each individual one of Nachkt’s scales.

“No,” Nachkt let out a soft sound, not wanting this to end. It was too late, however. He felt the climax as it crashed through him and he pitched forward across Rawrwargh’s chest as he came, boneless and already lost in the feel of rough fur against his skin.

In a moment, Nachkt had soaked Rawrwargh’s chest fur with his seed, and he felt Rawrwarghs shaft even more deeply as his body clenched around the Wookiee.

[“Nachkt!” Rawrwargh called hoarsely into his partner’s shoulder. Nachkt felt like he was burning from the inside, warmer and happier than he had been in his life.

His body stretched and ached, the sensation not subsiding as he grew cold once more. He was caught, immobile, but so desperately held in the heavy arms of his Wookiee. He was knotted, and would not move until it subsided.

[“Do not move,” Rawrwargh growled, begged.

Nachkt did not.

 

“Pod approaching Planet: Bimmisaari,” warned the A.I.

 

 

 


End file.
